


Fall from Grace

by tourdefierce



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, M/M, Meta, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/pseuds/tourdefierce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heat of summer won't leave and it's up to Merlin to help or Camelot's citizens might starve. Set in the year between Season 2 and Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall from Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyargles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyargles/gifts).



> Prompt: nyargles asked for: _Canon era, the harvest that year hasn't done very well. Arthur's worried about his people, and Merlin's worried about Arthur. Insert Merlin!magic._
> 
> Thanks to the talented blameitonmerlin, who is a gloriously fabulous beta.

<3<3<3

Merlin barely resisted the urge to press his naked body against the nearest stone wall. He imagined how cool it would be against his skin and the mere thought had him shivering in delight. Instead, he threw on his favorite tunic; made out of the softest material he owned and rubbed the worn material against his flushed skin. Because Arthur was off doing whatever it was he did on the trips with his Knights, Merlin put on the thinnest breeches he owned and with a brief thought, he shortened them with just a hint of magic, until they were just above his incredibly knobby knees. He was Gaius’ apprentice today, not some pig-headed, prat of a prince and so who cared if he was running around like a _peasant_?

After all, that was all he really was.

Well, not exactly _all_ , Merlin thought as he opened the door that led to Gaius’ work room. The heat was blistering and it was only half nine. It was past the time of year for this kind of weather, but the days were still blistering like it was midsummer, not autumn. It drove Merlin mad and the heat made his skin crawl with pent up magical energy. He wasn't sure what it was about the heat that made him antsy to do something, anything, with his magic, but he knew enough to know that it was a prescription for trouble. Thankfully, Uther had knighted someone last night and Arthur had gone off for a few days to bond with his new charge. It lessened the chance of Merlin doing something spectacularly stupid and getting himself beheaded or burned at the stake, depending on the mood of the King.

"What a pleasing thought," Merlin said out loud as he looked around Gaius’ workshop. There didn't seem to be any experiments going or leech tanks to be cleaned, but Merlin spotted a scrap of paper with a list of herbs that need gathering. Most of them looked easy to find and so Merlin left his boots in his room, preferring to go barefoot; something Arthur forbade because he said it made Merlin look more _common_ than he already appeared.

"Common for a bloody warlock," Merlin muttered as he grabbed his satchel, a small dagger and made to leave the coolness of the castle and into the open heat of Camelot.

Despite the heat, the castle bustled with life. Servants were moving around the castle with swiftness and Merlin smiled at those he recognized. He couldn't help but take the longer route around the castle so that he passed Morgana's chambers. The guilt burned deep inside of him as he passed Gwen, who was inside Morgana’s room. Lovely, compassionate Gwen who had been ordered to keep the unoccupied room fresh—as if by some chance Morgana would return. Gwen changed the linens with grace and Merlin paused to watch her through the open door. The windows were unlatched, the light of the morning spilling into the room and breathing life into the dark chambers.

Merlin tried not to think of Morgana's face, screwed up in disbelief as the hemlock burrowed into her blood and choked the life from her. He tried not to think of her face but it haunted him in the day as well as in the cloak of night. He hadn't gotten a full nights rest since she had been taken.

Before him, Gwen was placing fresh flowers onto the pillows of the bed, her lips kissing the empty space beside them. She paused and Merlin closed his eyes, praying that Morgause saved Morgana and was taking care of her. Even if it meant that Morgana was lost to Camelot forever, at least she would be alive. But it was hard to imagine, when and if Merlin got to see Morgana again, that she would understand the decision Merlin had had to make. Or if the phrase, 'for Camelot'-- _for Arthur_ , had been tarnished by Uther forever.

Merlin turned away as soon as Gwen started moving again. There was no reason to linger on losses that he couldn't change in the day before him.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself between the hole Morgana left, the fear of what the Dragon had warned of her fate and his father's death. But it didn't stop their faces haunting his dreams. Nor Merlin's attempts to communicate with Morgana with hers. He hadn't succeeded yet and he wasn't not sure he wanted to; the fear of what he would see and what she would say was dizzying.

Merlin left the castle and willed the sun to clear his mind. The courtyard was bustling with towns people and guards alike. He nodded to the few who acknowledged his existence and made his way out of the courtyard's stone and into the dirt path of the town.

"Merlin!"

He was just at the towns edge and he turned around to find a very familiar face.

"Is that you, Princess?" Merlin called back to where the little girl was standing. She giggled and ran toward him to latch herself onto his legs.

"Merlin," she chastised in a way only a child could. "I'm not a princess!"

She stepped back and Merlin frowned playfully, crouching down until they were eye level.

"You're not? Are you a Queen, then?"

She shook her head, blond pigtails shimmering in the sunlight.

"Well, you are far too pretty to be anything but a Princess or a Queen," Merlin said before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. She smiled, brighter than the blazing sun and Merlin couldn't help but feel his magic stir. What was it about blonds that made him want to show off?

"You know what you need?" The little girls large brown eyes were sparkling with curiosity and Merlin grinned, so glad to see her well as she had been Gaius' patient only a few weeks ago when they had first met. She had taken to him immediately, enchanted by his life in the castle and of Prince Arthur, who she wanted to marry and live happily ever after with.

Merlin knew the feeling.

"Close your eyes," he said.

A crease appeared on Charlotte's forehead and it reminded him so much of Arthur, that adorable and _royal_ scowl that charmed all the girls into thinking he was brooding. The resemblance of Arthur's frown to Charlotte's was too cute to ignore and Merlin found himself shaking his head and laughing quietly.

"Close your eyes," Merlin said again with a little wiggle of his finger. The little girl pouted but closed her eyes with a scrunch of her nose. Merlin looked around quickly, finding himself and Charlotte still alone, before he stared determinedly at the ground. A thrum of magic flowed through him and suddenly a patch of tiny white flowers were at his feet, breaking through the dusty ground. He plucked them carefully from the mound of dust surrounding the broken dirt and weaved them into Charlotte's golden hair. He checked to make sure her eyes were still closed before he conjured up a small mirror.

"All right then, open up."

"Merlin, you didn't do anything!" Charlotte whined and glanced around her. Merlin looked coy.

"I didn't?" he said as he held up the mirror. She squealed with delight, her hands palming the flowers in her hair with pure glee. She leaned forward quickly to give Merlin a kiss on his cheek before she pranced off, without a single thought of thank you. He could hear her bragging to her friends just up the way and he couldn't help the silly grin that spreads across his face.

Princess indeed, Merlin thought as he pocketed the mirror and turned towards the forest.

<3<3<3

"Stop following me," Merlin hissed behind him as he trekked back through the way he came, his satchel full of herbs for Gaius even though it had been extremely hard to find many of them due to the drought. The forest path was well worn but the trees still shaded the path from the beating sun and for that, Merlin was grateful, considering it was blistering hot and he couldn't get the family of bunnies to stop _following_ him. He tried not to look behind him, as if denying them his attention would hold any barring on whether or not they followed him back to the castle.

He had to admit that they were very cute. In a herd of bunnies sort of way. Their noses twitched whenever he stopped to peer at them from over his shoulder—their tiny, pink little noses. And okay, they were possibly the most adorable things Merlin had ever seen, especially the baby ones, but it didn't make it any less annoying that he had a warren of bunnies following after him. It wouldn't be annoying if it wasn't blazing hot out. Merlin wanted to go back inside the cool walls of the castle, but it might look a bit suspicious if he walked into the Camelot walls with a procession of woodland creatures behind him.

A squirrel looked at him curiously as he passed and Merlin glared.

"Don't you dare start," he said to the squirrel and then promptly chastised himself for talking to animals. Seriously, if he didn't get his head cut off for being a bloody warlock then surely being mad would have some consequence.

He reached the edge of the forest without anymore animals following him. As soon as he stepped onto the well worn road that lead into town he glanced back to see a row of bunnies looking particularly pathetic at the edge of the forest, like Merlin had threatened them with a pot of stew to boil them in. He wasn't Arthur, for goodness sakes!

"I don't know what you want from me," Merlin said.

The largest bunny's nose twitched.

"Stop it!"

The bunnies hopped toward him, tails and noses twitching in a formidable display of cuteness. Merlin could only sigh. He always had a soft spot for woodland creatures and this was probably pay back for all the times he had let Arthur hunt the small animals when he was bored or in a bad mood because Arthur found catharsis in killing things and Merlin found that getting in the way of that emotional outlet endangered his life. However, he did feel bad about letting Arthur hunt fluffy animals. Maybe this was his punishment.

 _Emrys._

The name was spoken softly and Merlin frantically looked around for any Druids or any other life but the _bunnies_. He found no one.

 _Emrys._

Merlin shifted back to the bunnies. The white one hopped forward and looked between Merlin and the grass, which was withered from the prolonged sun exposure and the lack of rain.

"I can't believe I'm actually talking to _woodland creatures_ ," Merlin hissed but the row of fluffy animals simply stayed cute.

 _Emrys._

"All right then! I'm listening."

The skin stung on the back of his neck as the sun beat down on him. If he didn't deal with the _magical bunnies_ his neck going to be sore and grumpy for his plans tonight. It was his first night off in over a month. Real plans! With people who didn't want him to scrub their floors, haul buckets of water up castle stairs or clean their sheets. In fact, they expected him to do the exact opposite of cleaning their sheets.

Merlin blinked, his mind moving back to the present. What was he doing again?

Magical bunnies. Right.

Oh. _Oh_.

"You want me to do magic. Of _course_ you do! Why is it always magic? It's like you have no idea that we live in Camelot." Merlin flung his hands up in the air. Little, annoying things like this kept happening to him ever since his battle with Nimueh and even more often since claiming his father's position as Dragonlord. Shrubbery kept petting him on his trips out hunting with Arthur, fruit trees would drop all their fruit when he came near, and most recently, little, cuddly animals following him around. Although, that one time with the bear hadn't been very cuddly. More terrifying. But much to Merlin's protest, nature kept speaking to him in his mind and expecting to do magic. It was all troubling, not to mention dangerous.

"Just so you know," Merlin said as he knelt down. "I'm risking my life and limb to do magic for you."

 _Emrys._

He put his hands on the ground and thought hard. Because the last time this happened he had muttered a spell and the bushs had continued to pet him. It was only when he threw up his hands and let magic course through him naturally, did nature seem satisfied. He had done the same thing almost a dozen times before. This time, he put his hands on the earth and breathed deep.

When he opened his eyes, there were flowers circling the area around him and a small mountain of carrots. It looked startlingly luscious and green compared to the rest of the forest floor around them.

"I hope you're happy now," Merlin cursed at the bunnies who did, in fact, look pleased. "Also, my name is _Merlin_! How many bloody times-" He was on the verge of shouting before he turned sharply from the munching bunnies toward Camelot.

Nice, stone-y Camelot. No living creatures to risk his life for or to make him think about what the drought might mean if the animals had started to look toward magic for help; or what it might mean for Camelot.

He whistled all the way back to the castle. Heat or not heat, he was going to enjoy his day.

<3<3<3

Merlin watched from a window as Arthur's Knights returned, leaving Arthur and the newly knighted man out for one more night to camp or bond or fight—Merlin wasn't entirely sure what Arthur did but he could guess it had to do with something stupidly sharp and shiny.

"I see he's returned," a soft and teasing voice said from behind him. Merlin didn't blush but it was a near thing.

"I'm completely ignorant of what you mean," he replied just as haughtily. Gwen was smirking when he turned around and if he wasn't destined to be an **Epic Warlock** , he would give into the temptation to pull on her loose curls.

"Don't be shy with me, Merlin. Don't think I haven't heard the rumors," she said as she bumped his arm with her shoulder. Merlin stared straight ahead at the group of knights laughing and pushing at each other in obvious camaraderie.

"You shouldn't believe rumors."

"Well," she said coyly, her smirk full of amusement. "According to the rumors, Sir Balen is going to enjoy himself tonight."

It only took a few seconds for them both to dissolve into laughter and Merlin soaked in the sound of Gwen's pure enjoyment. It had been a long time since she laughed so openly and he couldn't resist encouraging it, even if it was at his own humiliation.

The wound of Morgana's departure spoke volumes in the silence that often enveloped the whole castle at times.

<3<3<3

Sir Balen moaned prettily underneath him and Merlin enjoyed the slow pull of the body against his cock. The movement felt as if Balen was pulling the stress of the last few weeks out of him. However enjoyable their interaction was, Merlin kept his mind focused. He knew from experience that the longer this encounter continued, the larger his display of magic when he came. It was something he had learned the hard way, all of 14, gasping into Will's neck. That hadn't ended nearly as badly as it could have and with Will's help, Merlin learned to control most of his magic. But there were times when Merlin had been too overcome with pleasure to keep his mind and magic in control. It was a constant fear and Merlin was sure that if Gaius knew, he would lecture him that celibacy was a small price to pay if it meant keeping his head attached to his shoulders.

Gaius wasn't something Merlin wanted to be thinking about at the moment, though. However, the thought did temper the magic inside of him. Merlin shook his head and focused back onto the body spread out before him.

The broad shoulders beneath him glimmered in the candle light and Merlin had to forcibly remove the image of a certain _other's_ shoulders from his mind and the effort had him changing his angle and pounding more steadily into the body kneeling before him, his bruising thrusts a punishment for both of them.

"Oh bloody hell, yes--" Sir Balen yelled and Merlin tried to ignore how loud the knight was or what sort of rumors would spread because of it. Instead, he enjoyed the heat and pull of his building climax, wrapping his warm hand around Balen's cock, letting the thrust of his hips pump his bedmate’s cock into the tight ring his fist made.

"Merlin, yes," Balen moaned when Merlin changed the angle of his hips once more, hitting the spot inside the knight straight on and sending him over the edge with a yell of rather obscene proportions, making Merlin wince just before his own orgasm followed with a soft moan and stuttering hips.

Merlin took the time to pull out carefully, his finger rubbing at the abused hole to keep Balen occupied while Merlin looked around the room for evidence of his magic; there was a small pile of flowers in the corner and a chair was overturned, but that was it.

He checked to make sure Balen's face was still buried in the pillow and then waved his hand, settling the chair and vanishing the flowers before he rolled off the knight and flopped down on the bed, which was not as comfortable as his own and _that_ was disappointing. Last time Merlin allowed himself the pleasure of indulging in a knight, Sir Gaheris's bed was almost as comfortable as Arthur's, not that Merlin would know other than in his duties of linen changing.

Okay, he might have taken a nap once and smelled the pillows like a pathetically pining stable boy. But he changed the sheets after he was done and didn't steal a pillow covering, so really, he should be rewarded for his restraint.

He stared at the ceiling, his body trying to cool down in the unmoving air. Goodness, it was almost too hot for sex. And that was saying something considering Merlin spent most of his limited free time having it (which shook out to sex once every few weeks, if he was lucky)--heat be damned. However, the air circulation was poor in the knight's room and the stagnant air increased the temperature.

"That was a great," Balen murmured next to him and Merlin had the decency to hum back an affirmation, his mind already moving on to the tasks he still needed to do before Arthur returned. The fact of his distraction was disturbing enough and Merlin wasn't totally ignorant of his mind's reasoning for wandering but chose to ignore it for the sake of his sex life, which didn't get a lot of attention anyway, let alone if he started factoring in his guilt of substitution.

"You can stay if you like," the knight said, casually, beside him and Merlin turned to look at the sated and relaxed face of Balen, who licked his lips in a very deliberate fashion and succeeded in banishing the chores a little further from Merlin's mind.

"Yeah?" Merlin said, his fingers tracing the strong brow of Balen's face, the back of his hand brushing the dark mop of hair.

"Bloody hell yes. You're the best shag I've had in a while," he replied with a smile that was two parts coy and all wicked. "Rumors were quite true about you."

Merlin stilled. "What rumors?"

Balen laughed, his body bowing to twist and press his bare hips into Merlin's. Merlin was reminded of a large feline and couldn't help but shiver at the unconcealed lust on the knight's face. "You know, that you're... _graced_ ," Balen purred out the words and Merlin relaxed. He had heard other rumors, ones that weren't as flattering but had nothing to do with the size of his manhood and more to do with keeping his job by servicing the Prince, which besides being painfully untrue for Merlin, was also bad for Arthur.

"Graced," the knight continued, rubbing their half hard cocks together. It was too soon for both of them but it wasn't far off and Merlin was grateful for _magical_ recovery. "And you're trained to use it."

Merlin smiled, feeling his own body stir, despite the heat. He rolled over, pinning the man beneath him with the force of his hips and his stirring erection. Balen just arched into the delicious pressure and Merlin bent to press their lips messily together, his tongue running teasingly along the open mouth of the knight. He was surprisingly pliant, yielding to the slightest pressure from Merlin's hands. It was refreshing not to have to fight with a bedmate over who was going to be bedding whom. Knights were, unsurprisingly, fussy about the arrangement but Merlin's prick size usually won the battle in the end. Thank goodness too, Merlin stuttered to think what his magic would do if he was the one being taken.

"Well, Sir Balen," Merlin said against his lips, pressing a palm to the broad muscular plane of the knight's chest. "Practice does make perfect."

Balen's reply was smothered by Merlin's tongue and the decision to stay for a little while longer was made.

<3<3<3

Merlin slipped out of Sir Balen's room before the break of dawn, the sky was just light as he made his way around the room to collect his clothes. The second time with Balen had been better and Merlin was almost proud of the way he control his magic through his climax, even with the knight being exceptionally loud beneath him. It just proved his theory; he could control his magic better if the time between tumbles was shortened. He also hadn't been lying when he said practice made perfect. Although, Merlin had honed his magic control during sex with Will, someone he trusted. Not that they got up to anything as _advanced_ as what Merlin and his bedmates did since arriving in Camelot did. But without his time with Will, Merlin wouldn't have felt comfortable enough in his control and would have probably stayed (mostly) celibate. Without sex as a magical release, Merlin was sure that his magic would have already exploded during a time of high arousal, which was every bloody evening when he had to undress Arthur, and his head would have already graced the executioner's block.

His steps and the creaking door were both quieted by magic and Merlin didn't linger to look at the sleeping knight, afraid he'd be too tempted to stay. He had work to do and it had been put off long enough. Arthur would be back soon and the amount of chores he still had to finish was mounting. Not that he wasn't used to being yelled at by Arthur but, despite popular belief, he didn't enjoy being put in the stocks. Truly, the stocks were actually putting him off vegetables and Gaius was very insistent on vegetables. Almost as bad as his mum to be honest.

Most of the castle was still sleeping as Merlin made his way down to the kitchens. There was no way of knowing when Arthur would return and if he made his way back soon, it was unlikely that Merlin would get to eat. Best to get food out of the way. He'd learned this lesson before, after passing out on his fourth time up and down the castle stairs. That had been more than enough embarrassment, especially with Gaius reminding him that he's a bloody _warlock_ and should know better than to neglect eating.

Merlin wasn't sure what the connection was between being a warlock and his eating habits but he was done trying to understand Gaius.

"Morning ladies," Merlin announced as he bounded into the kitchens. A few of the younger staff giggled as he winked, looking into their pots and making various faces at the contents. The older ladies attempted to scowl but Merlin knew that they liked him more than they were willing to admit. He was one of the only personal servants who helped out during feasts and dinner, beyond his duty to Arthur, but it was well worth the extra work because he'd seen what happened when someone pissed off the kitchen staff and it wasn't pleasant.

"Has the Prince returned?" An older cook, Alice, asked as Merlin peered into the hearth to see what type of bread was baking. Merlin looked up, his mouth watering at the prospect of a warm slice over cold meat and maybe a small slice of cheese. Alice looked at him expectantly.

"Not yet," Merlin said with a sigh. "Does that mean you're going to give me crusty bread more than a fortnight old and rotten fruit?"

The cook looked as if she was considering it but by the time Merlin's face had fallen at the prospect of crap food, Alice was already turning and making him up a sandwich. Merlin swung over and leaned his head onto her shoulder in mock innocence. She shrugged him off with sharp shoulders that smelled of rosemary.

"Get off me, Merlin. You smell like you've slept with the dogs," Alice chastised.

Merlin wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't talk about Sir Balen like that, my lady." He turned and winked at the rest of the kitchen, the younger ladies collapsing into fits of laughter. Alice simply rolled her eyes and stuffed the warm sandwich into one hand and an apple in the other. He kissed her cheek with just the right amount of sass to get walloped on the head, but the smile that hitched at the corner of her mouth was enough to make the effort worthwhile. He spun around and bowed to the group of giggling kitchen staff, stomach growling audibly.

"I bid you all ado, ladies," Merlin said with a wink before turning to the stairs and tripping over his own large feet, which he had never really grown into. The laughing of the kitchen ladies followed him all the way up the stairs.

<3<3<3

He took to Arthur's bedchamber's first because the rest of the manservants were in with the laundresses and they loathed Merlin. He wasn't sure _why_ they hated him with so much passion but it was very clear after working at the castle for just three days that they hadn't wanted anything to do with Merlin if didn't involve making his already miserable existence more... miserable. Merlin had enough to deal with, you know, the whole being an incredibly powerful warlock under Uther's execution-happy nose and being at Arthur's every beck and bellow—not to mention making time to learn magic so that he could save Arthur's princely arse next time he leapt into danger without thinking. On top of all that, he was supposed to be helping out Gaius when he had extra time.

Add the amount of time Merlin had to squeeze in to get laid and he was spread thin. Because in all honesty, every one of Merlin's duties was essential, even getting a tumble in every once in a while. _Not_ getting laid wasn't an option. Last time he went a decent amount of time without bedding someone, he almost set Arthur's bed curtains on fire. (And by almost, he means absolutely did and Gwen had to help him put them out before they consumed the whole bloody room. Terribly hard to explain, combusting curtains in the middle of the day without a candle in sight.)

Needless to say, he didn't have time to deal with bitchy manservants. Plus, the kitchen staff loved him and they were the only ones that really mattered. Poison and all that rot.

Arthur's rooms were hot and damp and overall, terribly unpleasant but he certainly didn't work for Arthur for his own health. _Destiny_ , a voice countered in his mind, that sounded suspiciously like the Great Dragon's rumbling voice.

"Need help?"

Merlin turned from the window he was prying open with his already sweaty hands (it was seriously disgusting in the room, he was nearly as sweaty as he was last night). Gwen was looking beautiful as per usual, her hair swept back to avoid the heat but her curls falling loose to frame her face. She looked glowing in the morning sunlight and if Merlin was anyone else, he'd fall in love with her. Being who he was, tragically gay and completely awkward around women, he just thought her fit for queen-ship.

"You don't have to," Merlin said. "You can just sit there in Arthur's fancy Prince of Prats chair and watch me slave away."

Gwen laughed. "Oh and how you slave, Merlin."

Merlin turned around and flung open the window at the sly tone of Gwen's voice. "Oh, I see," he whined. "So you've just come 'round to mock me."

The sunlight poured into the room and did little to stifle the heat, but the air was moving around the room a bit and it didn't seem as if they were going to catch flame at any moment.

"I'm not here to mock you, Merlin."

Merlin stalked over and tugged sharply at the bed sheets, shooting a playful glare her way. Gwen just grinned in response and plopped into the nearest chair. Beautiful as she was, Merlin kind of felt like strangling her. Maybe if Merlin had that sort of grace, he'd catch more than just a weekly shag. Maybe then he'd snag himself a prince. As it was, Sir Balen was nice, but knights weren't long term material. If it wasn't for the fact that they had a habit of dying, it was that they were noble and couldn't stoop as low as a peasant to make any sort of commitment to.

"All right, I'm here to mock you!" Gwen said with glee, startling Merlin out of his thoughts.

Merlin scoffed and stripped the bed of the sheets. His shirt stuck to the small of his back and changing bed linens was kind of intoxicating because the sheets were just, you know, wafting Arthur's smell was everywhere; expensive soap, undefinable spices and something very male and... knightly. Whatever the smell, it made him want to crawl into the sheets and never come out again.

And, possibly, rub them all over his crotch.

" _Merlin!_ "

Merlin spun around. Gwen had an elegant eyebrow arched.

"What?" Merlin said as he took the coverings off the pillows.

"I've been speaking to you for quiet a while, you've been just staring at the sheets like they were going to come alive," Gwen paused and then smiled like the wicked, wicked woman she was. "Or where you having a bit of fun remembering whose sheets you were taking a tumble in last night?"

Merlin squawked and clutched the sheets to his chest, as if they could preserve his dignity. Or his honor. If, you know, he had any. Gwen just started to laugh and despite everything, Merlin couldn't help but love the sound. His heart twanged, Morgana's face resurfacing quickly before he closed his eyes and willed it away—just for a few more seconds of Gwen's laughter.

"Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Not that you should be embarrassed, I mean, I'm sure that you're--"

Merlin cut her off with his own giggling when he looked at Gwen; her face was flushed red in her _own_ embarrassment and she was talking in circles again, just like the day they met at the stocks. A beautiful girl, with an endless capacity to love and an uncanny ability to talk herself into trouble.

"I deserve it," Merlin said as he balled up all the linens and put them in the basket. "No doubt that Sir Balen was so bloody loud that Uther probably got a royal notification of who I was shagging and just how big my manhood is."

"Merlin!"

Merlin flushed. "Don't tell me you haven't heard the rumors?" Gwen blushed so furiously that she looked as if she was going to cry.

"Of course I have! You know the kitchen staff coddles you and between them, cooing over the size of, well, _you know_ and the manservants wanting to get you sacked by implying you've slept with the whole castle..." Gwen trailed off. Merlin shrugged because the rumors weren't _wrong_ and leaned against the bedpost to pant from wrestling with the bed linens. They were almost on.

"How do any of you have TIME to gossip?" Merlin said and turned around to continue angrily tugging on the bedsheet to get the corner around Arthur's stupidly large bed.

"Well, you better be careful," Gwen said as she got up and picked up the wicker basket full of the old bed linens. "Because if Arthur ever found out--"

"Like _Prince_ Arthur cares about who I bed," Merlin scoffed out with a puff of breath and a deep flush that was spreading across his chest. Goodness, he really needed to get this blushing under control. He wasn't even lying and he was flushing like he'd been caught with his breeches undone.

"Because if Prince Arthur ever found out," Gwen continued, "that you were despoiling his knights, one by one, then he might be upset."

"Despoiling! Please, as if Sir Balen was innocent," Merlin said and Gwen giggled from her leaning post on the frame of the door, basket in hand. Merlin grinned evilly and said,

"Even if he was, Prince Arthur has no right to interfere with my _despoiling_. Besides, I didn't hear Sir Balen mourning the loss of his innocence, in fact, very much the opposite."

"Merlin!" Gwen squealed in shock and Merlin almost fell to his knees in laughter. She threw a pillow covering at his head and took off down the hallway. He only realized she had taken the linens long after his laughter had faded down the castle walls.

<3<3<3

Merlin spent the rest of the morning cleaning. His good mood, the cheerful pull of Gwen's laughter and the steady throb of joy at being well shagged disappeared as if it had never been present. The heat felt unbearable, his own sweat dripped from his hair to sting his eyes and the mere thought of water, cool and serene, shook Merlin's bones with want. It was not an unfamiliar feeling.

The thing was, no matter how many knights he bedded or how many times he stroked himself to completion in the darkness of his chambers, or the once or twice he was willing to admit, in the darkness of Arthur's chambers, it never seemed enough to quench his undying thirst. It was frustrating, the longing he possessed for something more. Some _one_ in particular. More than anything, it was a a permanent thing, like the magical hum in his body. Permanent and dangerous as destiny could be.

Merlin looked out at the blinding sky, the heat scorching his skin and so powerful that it felt like it came from the belly of the Great Dragon himself. With a drought like this, Merlin couldn't be so sure the Great Dragon wasn't involved.

If this was his destiny, constantly wanting what was not his to want, then he wasn't completely sure _destiny_ was reason enough to stay in Camelot by Arthur’s side when it was so dangerous and stifling at times. Could it be adequate, knowing that Arthur would always need Merlin around to save his life but never trust him enough to keep his heart safe as well? Was it enough to know that Arthur loved only Gwen and that the royal laws could only shift so much? Was this destiny, slowly cooking in a bitter fire, sufficient to keep his magic satisfied as well as his mortal needs?

He closed his eyes, letting the sunlight beat down on his face in the open window. He didn't even know if he was mortal anymore. Having the power of life and death was confusing and Gaius wasn't sure that Merlin _could_ be killed completely. Merlin was being forced to read up on reincarnation and it was morbid.

He didn't want to be immortal. Not if every life was going to feel like this—if he was going to _want_ like this forever, just in different ways. Maybe if he could forget...

When he opened his eyes, the room was clean and the sky was stroked with looming thunderclouds. Magic was thrumming throughout the air, so loudly and thickly that Merlin couldn't seem to breathe from the force of it, the power practically overwhelming in its magnitude. Merlin didn't have time to gasp, as he realized the source of the magic was himself, so powerful and _everywhere_ , before he was fleeing the room, the heavy chamber door slamming behind him with the first rumble of thunder in the distance.

<3<3<3

"Gaius," Merlin screeched as he burst into the worked room. "I didn't mean to, I swear to you Gaius. I swear!"

Merlin could feel his own fingers shaking, his whole body trembling with what he hoped was his own fear and not the work of his magic. Gaius looked up, eyes wide with concern and his hands already reaching for Merlin's shoulders—his capable, healing hands. The thought was calming despite his wired nerves.

"Merlin, whatever are you speaking of?"

Merlin sagged against Gaius' hands, his eyes darting frantically before meeting the older man's. "I closed my eyes and--" Merlin said, his own voice sounding pathetic and strung-out to ears. "I don't know what happened but--"

Merlin struggled for breath as thunder clapped, the stone beneath their feet trembling at the force, just before light lit up the room.

"Merlin, tell me what happened."

"I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I had made the storm outside," Merlin whispered. He could barely hear himself over the rolling thunder. The storm raged closer and it was moving swiftly, already Merlin could tell the distance between the thunder and lightening had lessened and the frequency was speeding up. He tried to slow the beat of his heart, as if there was some connection between the speed of the storm and the frantic beating of his chest.

"You didn't speak a spell?" Gaius was calm and Merlin forced himself to look into the steady gaze of his mentor.

"No. I did nothing, Gaius. I swear to you that I did nothing but I know I created it," Merlin said and when Gaius nodded, Merlin did not look away even as his voice shook. "What's happening to me?"

Gaius didn't answer, just moved his hands to Merlin's arms and guided him to the nearest chair. Merlin closed his eyes as another clap of thunder came, the light that followed was so blinding that it burned inside his eyelids. When he opened them, Gaius was holding a cup of water in offering. Merlin took it without comment.

"Merlin, you hold power over life and death. You are a Dragonlord. You are everything the Old Religion is," Gaius said in quiet tones. "I do not understand what is happening to you but it is clear that your magic is growing. Magic is a fickle woman, Merlin. After everything you've done, controlling the weather doesn't seem that great of a feat, does it?"

Despite the flashing of the lightning and the rolling of the thunder beneath their feet, Gaius seemed incredibly calm. Merlin breathed slowly, feeling magic pulse inside of him in time with the beat of his heart. It was amazing to him, that only hours earlier he was joking with Gwen about sex and his greatest worry was getting Arthur's chores done before he returned. Now he was conjuring storms and thinking about how his mere existing might bring the world to a crumbling end.

"I wish the Great Dragon was here," Merlin said. Gaius looked back at him, head tilted and eyes shining with affection.

"He did always seem to have a riddle for you too keep your mind off of whatever trouble you found yourself in," Gaius replied with laughter in his voice.

"He was rather annoying that way, wasn't he?" Merlin felt his own body relax and took a gulp of the water Gaius had handed him. "Prophetic bastard."

"Since he is not, I think it best if you rest," Gaius said with an arch of his eyebrow, presumably at Merlin's language. "And perhaps keep out of Uther's sight, in case you make it snow or something equally phenomenal."

Merlin nodded and got up, leaving Gaius at the table and going to his rooms.

"Merlin?"

He paused, his hand pressing against the door to his small room. He looked back at Gaius, who was still standing, his body twisted so that he could look at Merlin's retreating form.

"No matter what, do not think that you are anything but a breath-taking creature."

Merlin felt a faint smile bloom over his face before he nodded and retreated into his room.  

Outside, it began to rain.

<3<3<3

The storm rolled on through the night. It was odd to Merlin that although he had inadvertently caused a colossal rain storm that was literally shaking the foundation of the castle, he didn't feel tired. Unlike all his other randomly spectacular feats of magic that left him exhausted and awkward in his own skin, this feat of magic left him as restless as the colts in the storm, whose agitated hooves could be heard over the cooing of the stable hands. It was a similar feeling when he went without a shag for a long time, his mind not knowing where to settle and his limbs humming with unconfined magic. All of it was strange, really. It had seemed as if there was lull for the last couple of weeks, with the King absent from court most days because he was hunting for sorcerers that might have taken Morgana and brought on the evil curse of the dragon.

Merlin was glad he was gone more often than not, only returning for a few days at a time before heading out again. Uther made him more restless and just hearing the man speak gave Merlin chills. The icy and manic way he spoke with Morgana gone crept into Merlin's mind and made him doubt being in Camelot, so close to the stake that had burned so many. Merlin wanted to care about the people that Uther was out hunting and probably wrongfully prosecuting, but he couldn't bring himself to think about it too much because it always brought his thoughts back to the purge and _Merlin's father_.

His dead father. Who, it turns out, was only absent from his life because Uther had chased him away. The hate that burned inside of Merlin was ugly and dangerous and he despised the way it crackled across his fingers in magic. The plague brought thoughts of 'what ifs': What if Balinore had stayed in Ealdor and both mother and father were executed, unborn Merlin included? What if Balinor had taken Hunith and Merlin with him, living dangerously on the run, but happily together, looking for a place that would have cultivated magic? What if Merlin had never come to Camelot? What if Arthur had...

He took a deep breath, lightning flashing outside his small window and playing shadows across his wall. The dragon had once said that Uther's love for Igraine was a gift that he had not known how to handle—that Uther had not known how to choose between love and kingship. The result had been more disastrous than anyone could have imagined, and the fact remained that the love of great men, of kings, was not to be played with lightly. It seemed strange to Merlin that the Great Dragon had possessed such wisdom and yet, he still had attacked Camelot and killed innocent people. Then again, what love did the Dragon have if it wasn't for the people who Uther had already cast aside? The tie between _kin_ was stronger in the Old Religion. Merlin often felt it inside himself.

He idly wondered if the Dragon was watching him now, through his stupid mystical eye that was all-seeing and full of shite. The thought made him laugh, a little of the tension seeping out of him and drawing him out of his thoughts. The thunder rolled constantly underneath Merlin's feet. He was half-tempted to lay on the cool stone and feel the consequences of his magic in the storm that rumbled through the stone. He didn't know what it was about the storm that appeared to be detached from him; lost somewhere in the connection between him and the earth.

"Like everything else," Merlin muttered before he turned away from the window and sat on the bed. His magic still stirred inside of him and he felt it hum to warm the bedding and soften the mattress. He had been doing magic like that more often since he'd gotten back from the Isle. Gaius could only explain it as the earth's magic reaching back to connect with his presence and according to Gaius, earth magic did whatever it pleased. Merlin wasn't even sure he was doing magic or if the earth was doing it for him. But he was never fast enough to catch his reflection in the mirror every time it happened, the result being that he kept his head down much more often. Just in case someone walked by and his eyes were glowing. Glowing eyes tended to be fall under the ban of magic.

Arthur had not returned from his bonding with the new knight but Merlin wasn't worried. More often now, he felt Arthur's presence in his magic. If he concentrated hard and focused, he could hear the steady beat of Arthur's heart in his ears and if he listened long enough, his own heart would beat in time. Merlin tried not to do it often, not sure if Arthur felt something on the other end. But times like this, when Arthur was not at his side and no one had heard either way, Merlin risked opening up the connection.

Arthur's heart was beating slow and steady, as if he was sleeping and Merlin was quietly comforted that at least someone was enjoying the storm.

Merlin decided that he was going to ignore all the other thoughts of Arthur and storms; the thought of him soaked through his clothing and undressing in a make-shift tent shelter with that arse-licking new knight unsettled him in ways that he rather not examine. Merlin was also ignoring what a complete nancy it made him for listening to Arthur's heart beat and the longing it created inside of him.

The Great Dragon hadn't warned Merlin about confusing destiny with love but Merlin wasn't dense. He could read between the lines. But just being aware of the danger wasn't enough, Merlin had found. One must actively remind themselves and do things to distinguish the two. But Merlin wasn't sure whether it was worse to love someone and sacrifice them, love someone and lose them, or love someone and have them betray you. Either way, Merlin knew that loving someone and getting royally screwed in the end, be it the chopping block or twisted sneers or banishment, was probably similar to loving someone without it being returned. And cockin' up destiny, no doubt, while he was at it.

Merlin found it difficult to believe that legends would be told about him, about his magic, about Arthur and him and their great adventures. If people in the future realized he was just an adolescent, out-of-control magician, who had been tragically queer and pining for his once and future king, they wouldn’t waste their time writing about him.

As of now, loads of bards were lining up and around the castle gates to write that story down for all of Albion to hear. Right.

"Who could love a warlock anyway?" Merlin said into the darkness, before he laid down and forced himself to sleep.

In his dream, he repeated the question to the Great Dragon: "Certainly not a warlock with such large ears," the oaf had replied smugly. Before his faced shifted into Morgana's and then melted into Morgause's face, her eyes lined with pity.

<3<3<3

Dawn broke through his window and Merlin blinked the sleep out of his eyes, watching light flood his room, the sky still semi-dark outside. The clouds themselves had dissipated and the storm was gone, the only trace of the violent storm from the previous day were the fallen limbs from trees too weak for the strength of the winds and the way the ground seemed to breathe deeper without heat's tyranny. Merlin wondered if the weather would bring heat again today or if the storm had nudged Camelot into autumn. At least the drought could be staved off for a bit, not that one rain would heal the pains the crops were currently suffering, but it was enough to brighten Merlin's mood.

Merlin wasn't going to wish for anything too spectacular, just in case earth magic decided to talk to him or something and send the whole of Albion into another freak storm. Not that controlling the weather wasn't wonderful but since _control_ wasn't Merlin's particular forte, he was just going to stick with whatever the weather chose to be that day.

"Merlin?" Gaius called from the main chambers, and Merlin moved toward the sound. Gaius was ladling porridge into two bowls by the table. Merlin's stomach rumbled in appreciation and anticipation.

Merlin rubbed sleep out of his eyes and slid onto the bench. "Mmm," he murmured when he found a spoon sliding into his hand. Gaius sat opposite him.

"Slept well, I trust?" Gaius regarded him with amused eyes. Merlin shrugged and shoved another spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "You didn't create any snow storms without your knowledge? No sudden hail in distant desert lands?"

Merlin glared and swallowed his mouthful. "I long for the days you were afraid to speak about my magic."

Gaius smirked into his breakfast. Merlin was grateful for the normality of their conversation, all things considered. Gaius had been wonderfully patient with all of Merlin's new... tricks. He had come an awful long way from shushing Merlin at every magical turn and glaring at him with that impressive eyebrow.

"No word from the Prince yet," Gaius said casually. Merlin shrugged, if Arthur didn't return sometime today then he'd start to worry. But the last time he checked on the Prince's heart it was still going strong and, Merlin imagined, rather prattishly too boot.

"It's a good thing too because I've yet to polish his daggers."

Gaius rose an eyebrow. "And that's important?"

"No," Merlin said. "But you'd think the way he carries on about them that he was about to go to war at any moment. Not that anyone actually _needs_ twelve daggers on their bloody person but you can't tell him that."

Gaius laughed and Merlin smiled in reply. He knew that Gaius couldn't be as insubordinate as he was but Merlin knew that Gaius was probably a rebel in his day. Not that the old physician would ever admit it.

They finished breakfast in companionable silence before Merlin departed to get the rest of his chores for Arthur done, Gaius calling after him to come around if he got done early. Merlin yelled in agreement before he disappeared down the stairs, barely managing not to trip over his own damn feet.

The castle walls felt fresh around him as he ran his fingers along the cool stone. He wasn't completely ignorant. He had messed with nature, the natural course of the weather, but it would return as it was before—blinding, scorching heat laid ahead and Merlin wouldn't put it past the Old Religion to make it even more miserable. It had rained for two weeks straight after Merlin had accidentally killed Nimueh. It was not quite full light but he could feel the heat coming and the possibility of consequences for his magic lingered in the back of his mind. Could Camelot stand more heat? Merlin didn't think so, not when Arthur had been reluctant to leave the castle due to the harvest lingering on the horizon and summer’s heat refusing to release Camelot from its clutches.

Having powerful, other worldly powers wasn't as awesome as Merlin had thought it would be. In fact, that was probably why Nimueh was always hiding out in some pretty dodgy places. Lives of warlocks and witches were probably not very normal.

Merlin snorted and made his way to Arthur's chambers.

Merlin dreamed of normal. Normal was for the deepest of his desires and none of his waking hours. He was slowly coming to terms with these facts of his life, however, it didn't stop his dream-world from straying to the domestic. They were dreams after all and if he wanted to think about _happily, ever after_ then he would. Merlin understood that happy endings weren't foretold in their destiny—in any destiny Arthur and him commanded. They would be great, if they didn't get each other killed first, but they would lead the life of legends and not fairytales. There was a difference and for this, Merlin was certain as he felt it in his bones. It was probably why the Great Dragon was always so full of riddles, it was hard to tell young people their destiny was intertwined as much together as it was in tragedy. The lives of legends didn't end in _happily, ever after_ and it would do no good to harbor illusions to that effect. However, Merlin let himself wander down those paths every once in a while. Plus, just because they were supposed to be legends didn't mean Merlin couldn't get laid once in a while—destiny owed him as much if it was going to rob him of domestic bliss.

Merlin climbed another set of stairs and stopped at the landing, looking around at the empty corridors of the castle.

The castle wasn't yet awake. Merlin loved it when it was quiet, as if the whole of the castle was relaxed with sleep and Merlin particularly enjoyed it in the morning light. Nothing sinister was lurking in the corners and yet, it was quiet enough for Merlin to be able to think and use his magic without too much worrying of being discovered. As much as Gaius would protest, Merlin did, indeed, value the attachment of his head to the rest of his body.

Minor details.

As the castle slept, Merlin tidied Arthur's chambers and fluffed pillows. He completed all the ridiculous tasks that Merlin had never thought were necessary, let alone preformed, before coming to Camelot. He dusted cabinets and large, ornate bed frames, he scrubbed the floors and made five or ten trips down to the kitchens. Being a manservant was rather hard work. Merlin couldn't imagine handling his duties without magic and he felt terribly sorry for the servants around him who did their jobs without help; fetching water up from the belly of the castle or the wine stores or a startling number of things that involved carrying heavy objects up many sets of stairs. It was all very impressive.

"You're early to rise today," a teasing voice said from the open door as Merlin tried to wrestle with the bed curtains. Arthur hated to have his bed curtains drawn and yet, here Merlin was struggling with the blasted fabric anyway.

"I absolutely loathe bed curtains."

Gwen smiled and crossed the room to help him hang a particularly tricky corner of the curtain that never ceased to make the whole bed collapse when Merlin tried to use magic on it. Not for the first time, Merlin wondered if Uther had tricked the actual castle to believe magic was evil, although Gaius was more than eager to implicate Merlin's shabby housekeeping spells than the objects themselves.

"Any word from the Arthur yet?" Merlin asked casually. The storm was weighing heavily on his mind. If he couldn't get his magic under control then it wasn't safe to be around Arthur with the way he twisted Merlin's insides with so much emotion. It was unnatural, the effect the prince had on Merlin, not that Merlin hadn't thought about that. Merlin frowned. Where did destiny and reality cross, and did they intersect directly at his heart? It wouldn't surprise him. The dragon was cruel in his own right.

Kin, indeed.

"Don't worry, Merlin," Gwen answered and Merlin looked at her in confusion before he remembered that he had actually asked a question. "The scouts saw him ridding over the western ridge and seemed fine. Although, I suspect the hail storms from yesterday weren't pleasant to be out-of-doors in."

Merlin winced. "Great. More royally whinging."

"Oh shut it," Gwen admonished with a smile as she smoothed out the curtains. "You know that you and Morgana would be bored without the Prince around to annoy you all."

Silence echoed in the room and Gwen’s gaze darted away from his as the slip in her speech resonated between them.

Merlin's heart cracked, Morgana's laughter haunting him just as much as her tortured eyes. If only he had gone to her, disobeyed Gaius' advice and sought her out, gave her someone to confide in about her magic, then maybe things would have turned out differently. If only he had taken ownership of the magic in him, she wouldn't have turned to someone else. Merlin was pants at divination; the art of future telling was beyond his skill, but he had read about it and if the Dragon was right then Uther had created a malice inside of Morgana that would take hold for the rest of their years.

The silence between the two servants stretched, Gwen's face a picture of longing and sadness. It amazed Merlin how quickly the moods of the castle changed these days, almost as frequently as Merlin's magic. From playfulness, a brief reprieve from the grief of loosing a beloved lady, to the heavy weight of secrets and half-truths.

"Do you ever..." Gwen trailed off, her voice small and her eyes distant. Merlin moved closer to her, his hand curling around her bare shoulder.

"Do you ever wonder where she's gone?"

Merlin swallowed. "Gwen, she's safe. I know it," Merlin said and looked away from her eyes that had turned hopefully towards him. He longed to tell her all about Morgause, how they were half-sisters and that even if Morgause was an evil sorcerer, that she would keep Morgana was safe. He wanted nothing more than to reassure Gwen but the words stuck in his throat and shame burned hot up his neckerchief.

He was a coward.

"Trust me, Gwen." Merlin's voice shook but he didn't dare look the maidservant in the eye. She could squeeze anything out of him if she tried hard enough. "Trust me when I tell you that Morgana is not in any immediate danger."

"Merlin-"

Merlin was halfway down the corridor before Gwen could finished the choked and desperate gasp of his name.

<3<3<3

To say that Merlin was in no mood for Arthur's _prattish_ , albeit royal, mood was an understatement. He had spent the entire morning in a temper, the guilt of Morgana weighing heavily. He had failed her so completely, from comforting her about magic to saving her from the Dragon's foretold nightmares. He had created their destiny. He alone would have to take responsibility for turning away a most trusted friend and molding her into an enemy. The knowledge was unbearable. And in light of that, his own half truths floated through his mind and made him second guess everything he thought he wanted and thought he was _destined_ to do.

The word alone made him ill.

Merlin spent the rest of the morning trying to avoid people because his magic was acting up. He was so full of longing and want that it seemed to bubble up in him at the most inopportune moments. Cool watered flannels were jumping to wipe his forehead in comfort, inanimate objects kept leaping to help him with his tasks and looked incredibly sad whenever Merlin or Gaius chastised the object. His magic just wanted to comfort him, but it wasn't really doing Merlin any good. Gaius had taken to smacking him around the back of his head when he started murmuring ancient words to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, be it moving objects around without a thought or unconsciously trying to contact Morgana.

"Merlin, if you can't get your magic under control then you'll have to leave."

Merlin looked up from a kettle that was pouring him a cup of tea (it had been pouring him cups of tea for almost an hour and Merlin had to magic them away when he realized they were filling up the room). He nodded lazily. It was so bloody hot. He understood that but his magic didn't seem to give one grain of thought to rules.

"Is Arthur back yet?" Merlin said absently as he wiped his forehead of sweat. The temperature outside the castle had finally risen to a point that not even the cool stone could escape the onslaught of the heat. Gaius had already advised Uther to issue a heat advisory, warning people to stay inside their houses or in the shade due to the likelihood of exhaustion. Uther had decreed the advisory, sending out porters to the lower town even though many people were likely tending to the fields. Well, what was left of the fields to tend. With Samhain approaching and the heat being so oppressive for the past months, Merlin wasn't confident that there would be much of a Samhain crop to gather. Arthur had been reluctant to leave on his trip due to the drought but there honestly wasn't anything he could do. Both Uther and Merlin knew that no matter how much Arthur willed the weather to tend to the crops so that Camelot citizens would eat well in the winter, the prince was not capable of making anything happen.

"Merlin?"

Merlin shook his head, thoughts clouding his vision for a few seconds before he sought Gaius' gaze. "Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Has Arthur returned?"

"He's in with with the king."

Merlin frowned. It was rare that Arthur went straight to his father's chambers without bathing or at least letting Merlin know how worthless his existence was. "Is something the matter?"

Gaius raised a bushy eyebrow, his hands busy pouring what smelled like a tonic for heat exhaustion. "Where has your mind been, boy? The lightning storm from yesterdays _unexpected deluge_ started a fire in the northwestern fields."

"What? But the rain!"

"The rain did nothing to protect the earth from the lightning when it has been so dry for too long," Gaius said firmly, although not unkindly.

"But Gaius, that means I started the fire! I burnt the crops."

"Nonsense. The Earth is temperamental as Nimueh has passed on, and with Kilgharrah now free to interact with the Old Religion again, nothing is safe." Merlin watched as Gaius turned away to pour the tonic into a different container for distribution. "You were just a vehicle for the magic that created that storm, Merlin. I don't think you created it, so much as the Earth wanted it and called on you to channel magic for it."

"I started _a fire_ , Gaius. If the northwestern fields burn, the lower town will starve this winter. I heard Arthur speaking about it before he left and the northwestern fields were the only crops doing decently in the heat," Merlin said desperately.

"Why do you think Arthur is now with the king instead of ordering you about?"

Merlin struggled, the heat tangling his mind around the facts and constantly getting stuck on the fact that he started the fire. People would starve because he couldn't control his magic.

He choked on a sob. "Gaius-"

"Enough," Gaius said quietly. "Earth magic is volatile, Merlin. It does as it chooses and as a creature of the Old Religion you are its greatest conduit of magic."

Merlin nodded, head foggy, but Gaius' words didn't relieve the sense of guilt boiling inside of him. This was his fault. And he had to fix this, for the people of Camelot and for Arthur. He had no idea how he was going to solve the crop problems but he knew it had to be done. With Merlin's lightening, the threat of starvation was not an _if_ but a _when_. If Merlin closed his eyes tight enough, he could still remember the one winter that Ealdor went with little food because of the raiders. He was only a boy then but he could still remember the tightness in his belly and the gentle fatigue, feeling dizzy and light, that came with scarce food. As much as Merlin remembered the ache in his stomach and the lightness in his head, he could recall his mother's face the clearest. Between the food shortage and Merlin's random acts of magic getting more frequent, she was worried sick and Merlin had felt that she aged years in those few cold months. The lines in her face had hardened, deep with concern, the crinkle in her mouth quivering in the cold of the house and her hands shaking when she held Merlin close to her chest, trying to keep the cold and the hunger at bay. It was the worst winter of his life and it seemed so far away from him now, yet the memory of that frozen winter and his current life were colliding.

"Here," Gaius said, once again breaking Merlin out of his thoughts. "Take these round. I've labeled the bottles with their beneficiary's names."

"Gaius, I've condemned people to their deaths and you're sending me on errands!"

"Stop being so dramatic," Gaius said with a wave of his weathered hand. "Your magical identity crisis doesn't stop the comings and goings of the castle."

Merlin took the basket of bottles and left the workroom without looking back. Gaius might be used to the repercussions of his actions killing innocent people, but Merlin wasn't there yet. He hadn't been in Camelot long enough to feel flippant about life and death. He'd never accidentally killed anyone who hadn't earned it and the thought of killing children from the inside out was horrific. The closest he had ever come was the devastation that Great Dragon had created; even then, the presence of magic had been deep in Camelot and _destiny_ had felt balanced after the attack. This looming starvation didn't feel deserved from Destiny's might hand; it felt like a mistake.

He was going to fix this. He and Arthur were going to fix this before winter came. Samhain was in a couple of weeks and there would be something to celebrate. Merlin would make sure of it.

<3<3<3

Merlin completed his deliveries as swiftly as possible. Thankfully, it was too hot for much of the castle to be doing anything remotely productive and it kept the servants busy attending their whining royal masters in the heat. Since Arthur was still with the king, Merlin had plenty of time to slip back to his room and do a bit of research.

It was not promising. Apparently, growing food on a mass scale was tricky magic. Why was it that Merlin could create a storm to drown the whole kingdom of Camelot without a second thought, but growing food was going to be near impossible?

Because this was his life and Merlin was convinced he was being punished.

"What the hell," Merlin said as he flicked through the large magic tome. "I'm not killing a unicorn again, let alone disemboweling one. Maybe there is a substitute?"

He scanned the spell.

"Why is disembowelment of unicorns comparable to disembowelment of princes? I've met both of them and they aren't even remotely a like. Every unicorn I've met has been quite sweet."

He shook his head and flipped further into the book.

"Oh, well I could just traipse down to the Isle of the Blessed and hand myself over," Merlin said with disdain. "Been there, done that. It was _wet_. I almost caught my death of pneumonia, and that was _after_ almost dying and slaying witches."

The Isle of the Blessed was off the list of things to do today.

"My choices are to cut up a woman's womb, her first born child and drain their blood into the earth through a portal of pain... or sex magic."

Merlin closed his eyes.

"Seriously?"

When he opened him, his hands had already turned from the sacrificial section to the smutty section of the magic book. Somewhere, the Old Religion and Kilgharrah were laughing their asses off. Merlin was sure of it.

Settling deeper into the pillows, he started to examine the specifics of the spell.

<3<3<3

Sex magic didn't look very hard. He was so used to focusing on control of his magic while he was having a roll in the hay that for once, he thought it should be nice to have somewhere to concentrate his power so he didn't have to levitate chairs and grow flowers out of the blue. And even then, he would have to enchant his partners ears to muffle the casting and then there was the spell itself, which was supposed to be cast just before he climaxed so that he "gave his seed to the earth".

Not even remotely joking.

He had to read that line five times before he fully worked out the meaning. Turns out, spell books are just as naughty as the ones Merlin had caught Arthur reading in the flickering candlelight of his room. Merlin hadn't figured out where he kept them yet, because even when Merlin was actually _cleaning_ with his _hands_ , he had yet to find the small books bound in deep red leather, cracked from frequent reading and their pages stained with greedy fingerprints. He couldn't imagine Geoffery letting Arthur keep them in the castle library. The thought made him vomit a bit in his mouth.

"Merlin?"

He looked up from the book, trying to see anything he might need to remember. Surprisingly, there weren't too many warnings about the power of the spell or the end of the world or what-have-you that he normally had to be aware of. It was something he was getting used to while working on saving Camelot and Arthur... lots and lots of fickle fine print.

But the only thing it said was that performing the spell while sleeping with someone who mattered to the caster was preferable and that doing it close to the earth helped channel the magic. Merlin doubted that channeling magic was going to be a problem since the earth couldn't seem to keep its hands to itself lately. As for a person who mattered, Merlin wasn't too worried about it. He was confident enough in his powers that performing the ritual would be enough because the someone he cared for was currently unavailable... for life.

"Merlin! The prince is bellowing for you!" Gaius said through the door and Merlin nodded, closing the magic book and slipping it underneath the bed before making his way out of his chambers, nodding to Gaius and going to find Arthur, who was undoubtedly _bellowing_.

When Merlin arrived at Arthur's chambers, he was already devouring his food with a surly look on his face. Merlin took a deep breath and closed the door as quietly as he could. He knew that Arthur took his kingdom seriously and that every life meant something to him. He was acutely aware of how much the crop shortage was going to effect Arthur and he wasn't looking forward to it. In fact, it was extra motivation to fix the damage. Not that he needed any.

"About time you got here," Arthur said as he tore into a piece of boar with enough ill temper to kill it twice. "There are plenty of things for you to do. You can start with the armor, the laundresses need to be sent for, my daggers need polishing, I think there is a hole in every one of my breeches and my sword is so dull, I'm better off defending Camelot with a wooden one."

Merlin looked at Arthur's face, carefully controlled fury rolled through his features and clenched his jaw painfully. Merlin decided to play it safe. "Yes, sire," he said quietly, going to round up the splay of Arthur's things, undoubtedly thrown around the room in a mild tantrum.

He tried to stay in Arthur's periphery, because usually just seeing Merlin caused Arthur to lash out in times of high stress. And, not for the first time, Merlin felt like he deserved it. The combination of guilt and anticipation to make it right were enough to drive Merlin into silent compliance. He dried the armor first, taking extra care to oil the hinges before rounding up the laundry and sending a passing maid to fetch a few others to carry the loads down to the laundresses' hot bins.

Arthur barely spoke. Merlin could hear him chewing, the violent jerking of his jaw a very present reminder of the controlled frustration Arthur was feeling. Merlin tried to be as quiet as he could, only knocking the pile of armor over once and cursing just twice after he dropped the basket of laundry on his foot while handing it off to three serving girls.

"Be careful," Arthur hissed from where he was sipping his wine. Merlin turned to reply but Arthur wasn’t looking at him. "And watch your mouth around the ladies, you cur."

Merlin rolled his eyes as the serving girls smiled at him. They were no stranger to his violent tongue. In fact, his foul mouth was the only thing they ever laughed at when Merlin brought down basket after basket of Arthur's clothes.

"Sorry, sire."

Merlin smiled at the girls before they left, pleased with himself for keeping the sarcasm out of his tone. It was hard to be civil to Arthur most of the time and it was harder still when he was being an ass. Merlin honestly had no idea how other servants managed it.

The polishing of the daggers could wait until morning, since Arthur liked to have his large and pretty sword on hand when he was feeling particularly helpless and so it took priority. Merlin moved the daggers to their new place by the door and took up sorting the rest of Arthur's clothing that weren't in need of a wash. He could hardly keep his huffing silent. At least four of Arthur's jackets needed a serious mending and one was probably ruined. He wanted to ask just what the hell they got up to in the forest but after opening his mouth four times, he decided against it. By the time he set aside the clothes in need of sewing and put the others away, Arthur was done with his dinner, plate pushed aside and his eyes staring resolutely at the fire place that wasn't lit up.

This time last year, they had already had to put on a fire to keep the room manageable.

"More wine, sire?" Merlin tried to smile around the odd words in his mouth. He'd probably said 'sire' more tonight than he had all year. And it was nearly Samhain.

Arthur replied with a grunt, not taking his eyes away from the cold fire place. Merlin poured with care, only spilling a few drops on his hand. Arthur already had the goblet to his lips before Merlin could even step back.

"Anything else, sire?"

"Stop fucking saying it!" Arthur roared, standing up from his chair and flinging his goblet against the wall. Merlin gasped when the goblet shattered, the splatter of wine across the wall arched like blood and the stillness rang out across the room in deep shuddering breaths taken from Arthur's chest.

Merlin's eyes moved from the wall back to Arthur's profile. He looked so beautifully tortured in the moment and Merlin could only stare, unwilling to move if Arthur proved angrier than his control could handle. It had never happened before, true fear of Arthur in the form of violence, but when the lives of Camelot's people were at stake, Merlin wouldn't put anything past him.

"You know about the fields," Arthur said quietly, his voice measured. It was not a question and Merlin nodded, sure that Arthur was watching him even though his face was still staring at the spilled wine along the wall.

"People will _die_."

"I know," Merlin said, echoing Arthur’s tone, but unable to control his feet, which carried him to Arthur's side without a second thought. All his desire was rooted in taking away this pain from Arthur. His hand lifted, slowly stroking the nape of Arthur's neck where the hair was curled, damp with sweat from the heat and his own troubled mind. "I know," he repeated, softer still when Arthur's face relaxed and his eyes closed, visibly pushing into Merlin's fingertips.

Merlin wanted to move, wanted to take more of Arthur's burden but he knew how much he had already stepped over the line. Physical comfort was rarely sanctioned and never welcomed with more than silence.

"People will starve," Arthur murmured.

Merlin didn't respond, his fingers kneading slightly at the taught muscles of Arthur's neck. It could only have been a minute, maybe two, that Arthur's face relaxed to so-very-sad but wonderfully expressive in a way that Merlin often longed to see. But just as quickly and swiftly as the vulnerability came, it retreated. As soon as the stiffness in Arthur's body returned, Merlin let his hand fall, but he couldn't bring himself to step back.

"Turn down my bed," Arthur said stiffly. "I've an early morning tomorrow."

Merlin nodded, barely holding the 'yes, sire' on his tongue. He turned and busied himself with the lush bedding, not trusting himself to watch Arthur undress. It amazed him how his desire for the prince always appeared in the most inappropriate times. Merlin wasn't ignorant; he knew it had to do with the human side of Arthur, the side of Arthur that would be free of King Uther. The moments when Merlin could glimpse the great King Arthur would once be were the moments Merlin had to guard against. Yes, those provoked a longing inside of him that he simply could not control. Especially not in the soft lighting of Arthur's chambers, so private their setting with the warm breeze and the play of vulnerable emotions over Arthur's face.

Arthur slid into bed in silence, but Merlin heard the soft sigh of relief. Bedrolls weren't all together that comfortable, even the prince's, add the stress of the crops to that and Merlin was sure that Arthur's rest in the forest was limited. Except for maybe the night it rained.

Arthur always slept well to the sound of rain.

"Merlin," Arthur said, as Merlin bent to blow out the candles. Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur's voice was soft and raw, squirming into Merlin's heart and taking root in the most tender places. "Do the mending here."

"Arthur-"

"No," Arthur interrupted Merlin's choked version of his name. "The light is better here."

"You need your rest," Merlin managed with vigilance. "I'll just keep you up."

"Merlin, do the mending here tonight."

Merlin sighed softly but nodded, keeping his eyes averted as he dragged a chair to Arthur's bedside and took up the needle and thread next to the lit candles. He dared not look at Arthur because there was no way he could control himself if the prince kept up his meticulous tenderness. Merlin was half afraid he'd melt from the sweetness of it.

By the time Merlin was done, the candles were burnt half down and Arthur was sleeping lightly. Merlin allowed himself a few careful minutes to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Arthur's chest, mouth open slightly and his head turned toward Merlin and his now stilled hands. Arthur looked so peaceful and trusting, a look that Merlin dreamed about seeing all the time, in a new land, with a new life ahead of them.

Merlin let his fingers ghost Arthur's face, sweeping his messy bangs from his forehead.

"We'll save them," Merlin whispered. "We'll save them, I promise you."

<3<3<3

Arthur went out to the northwestern fields early in the morning, taking two knights and a few lords with him. Luckily, he didn't take Sir Balen and Merlin made quick plans to bombard him in the armory around lunch because the armory was underground and that was pretty close to the earth, right? Even though Sir Balen wasn't anything special to Merlin, he was sweet and insatiable and surely his desire for Merlin counted for something. Merlin spent the rest of the morning sharpening daggers, folding laundry and not thinking about Arthur's pretty face or the way his lips had moved around softly spoken words.

As lunch came and went, the knights grumbling their way off the practice fields and into the cooler shade of the castle, Merlin made his way to the armory, running the spell over inside his mind. The halls to the armory were blissfully empty and Merlin enjoyed how cool the stone was compared to the heat of the upper halls; he trailed his fingers across it as he carefully navigated the labyrinth of identical looking stone corridors.

Sir Balen was no where in sight.

"Thought you were back in the prince's favors?" Merlin said as he leaned against the entrance, watching as Sir Gallahad, not the expected Sir Balen, emptied out a sack of various instruments of destruction.

Merlin normally felt uncomfortable taking two knights in the same week. He usually stuck with one partner for a couple of months or until they were obviously done with him, moving on to a more permanent bedmate or courtship. But Sir Gallahad was here and Sir Balen was not.

Merlin couldn't afford the luxury of not being promiscuous. Not now.

Gallahad laughed, his face shifting from surprise to something softer and hungrier, which boded well for Merlin's plans. Merlin wasn't sure where the knights took their pleasures when Merlin was busy, but he had yet to find a knight who wasn't ready to be rode hard and hung up wet. Merlin was almost sure that Arthur had frowned upon brothels as a stern rule. But surely these brave knights had a sweetheart running around Camelot somewhere, or at least a squire who was eager to climb the ranks.

"Balen had to tend to his horse because his new squire is dim-witted," Sir Gallahad explained, putting down the rope he was holding and taking a few steps toward Merlin.

If Merlin squinted hard enough in the darkened armory, he could see a bulge in Gallahad's breeches. Christ, they hadn't even started yet.

"He was probably just trying to get out of it, you know."

Merlin adjusted his position on the archway, stretching his body out as coyly as possible. Where Sir Balen would have been convenient because he loved to bend over for a tumble and seemed eager to repeat his last encounter with Merlin, Sir Gallahad had only laid with Merlin for a few weeks before moving on to a sweetheart. The more problematic fact was Gallahad's fondness for choking on cock. It would take a bit more finesse to make it work, but at least it wasn't Sir Leon. He never welcomed Merlin's advances, even though Merlin knew that Leon preferred to lay with men, but he never challenged them either. He simply stood silently by as Merlin worked his way through bedmates.

"Yes, well," Sir Gallahad murmured, his eyes followed Merlin's body with a keen eye. "Better for me, eh?"

Merlin stepped forward, gladly taking the opportunity to hurry their interaction on. He had to be back upstairs in an hour to get Arthur cleaned up for a council meeting that evening, and if he had to get sucked before he fucked Sir Gallahad, he had better get started.

<3<3<3

Merlin didn't waste his time getting back up to the main part of the castle. He kissed Gallahad goodbye with a muttered 'thanks', which the knight had replied with a smile and a further invitation. Merlin had felt awkward, almost sorry for having to use Gallahad for sex magic, but he hadn't said anything about Merlin's mutterings or how Merlin's eyes were tightly shut for most of their encounter. In fact, Gallahad had rolled over and stretched, his lean body making a very good advertisement for Camelot's knights.

"You were vocal today," he had said lazily as Merlin blushed and struggled into his breeches, before giving into temptation and kissing Gallahad's smiling mouth and fleeing, anticipation unfurling in his gut. Arthur would be back soon and Merlin would find out then if his enchantment had worked based on Arthur’s mood.

In the mean time, Merlin folded himself up onto the ledge of the largest window in Arthur's room and watched for any sign of Fall.

The hours creaked by and Merlin worried that something might have attacked Arthur in the fields but then thought better of it because it was mostly miles of flat fields out there and farm houses and the open area would deter any thoughts of ambush. Unless Arthur got attacked by a rampant chicken or something.

Merlin whimpered at the thought. He honestly wouldn't put it past Arthur to get attacked by something seemingly harmless. Merlin witnessed it all the time when the Ladies of the Court came for dinner.

Two long hours passed the marked time that Arthur was supposed to return and Merlin grew restless, his eyes trained on the window until he could bare it no longer. He turned to do something, like scrub the floors for the second time this week, when he saw the evidence of his errant mind.

Arthur's room was sparkling; literally shining in a violent way as the sun reflected off of it. The bed looked as though made up by Gwen; perfectly pressed corners and smoothed wrinkles. Even the cobwebs in the corners of the arching ceilings that Arthur made Merlin clean when he was feeling particularly bored were devoid of anything resembling filth. A lingering dust rag was polishing a goblet, both merrily bobbing up and down in the air, as if it was suspended by magic.

Suspended by Merlin’s rampant and _annoying_ magic.

"Fuck," Merlin muttered and tried several hissed-out spells. The dust rag stopped, looking forlornly at Merlin as if its only desire was to please Merlin by dispelling any dust the room had ever harbored.

"Stop it!" Merlin whispered, terrified someone would hear him talking to himself. He sighed with relief when the dust rag shrugged a bit, looking dejected, before the goblet was set back onto the table and the dust rag slinked across the floor and underneath Arthur's bed.

Merlin buried his head in his hands. What the hell had he been thinking? He couldn't even get inanimate objects to obey him and yet he was going to try and save Camelot from _starvation_? Everything was spiraling out of control so quickly. It was only a few months ago that trolls had been his biggest issue. Oh, oh how he wished for trolls.

"Shirking you duties again," Arthur's voice said without heat and Merlin looked up from his preoccupied state, leaping from his place at the windowsill and rushing to help Arthur off with his tunic, which he was struggling to untangle from his body.

"How were the fields?" Merlin tugged a bit to the left and the shirt sprung free and dropped with a sickening plop to the floor. It was soaked in sweat.

Arthur grunted, his face obscured from Merlin as he pulled off his boots. "The fields are recovering remarkably well."

Merlin brightened up. "Yeah?"

"Indeed," Arthur tugged off his other boot and gestured rudely when Merlin simply stood there. Merlin smiled meekly before going to the wardrobe and pulling out a different set of clothes.

"How remarkable is remarkably well?"

"Merlin, you have no interest in crops. What could this conversation possibly hold that would entertain you?"

"Sorry, sorry," Merlin squeaked into the cabinet, nearly dropping the clothes he had pulled out for Arthur. He glared at the back of the cabinet before turning and handing Arthur his clothes. He refused to linger on the prince's glistening chest, or his flushed face or the fact that his thin under-breeches were clinging to his hips in ways that were illegal in most parts of Camelot. He was ignoring all that. Because Arthur being a prat and the possibility of people starving were not in the least bit arousing. And Merlin had just had sex, twice!

Merlin bustled around, picking up Arthur's sopping clothes and moving toward the door. He could run down and put these in with the laundry and then go ask one of the squires how the trip went. Merlin was picking up a runaway sock, Arthur had a problem keeping socks in pairs, when a long but very regal sigh came from behind him.

"The crops look good, suspiciously so. So much that people suspect sorcery," Arthur said with a tired voice that Merlin felt down to his bones. He closed his eyes. "Not that the people care, because they would rather have food, sorcery or no."

"Will you hunt for the magic?"

Merlin didn't turn around; the air around them was suddenly thick with tension and his own voice wavered a little. Would Uther see his people starve for the sake of stamping out sorcery? Merlin had no doubt that he would. But Arthur? Merlin was never sure where Arthur's wavering stance on magic lay in the murky honor and loyalty that Arthur had for the people of Camelot—for _his kingdom_.

"No," Arthur said quietly. "No, I won't."

Merlin felt the tension in his shoulders seep out. He nodded and opened the door.

"Merlin."

Merlin turned by habit. Arthur was still sitting on the bed, his clothes in a pile in his lap with the sun shining in the room behind him causing him to light up as if he were an angel. He looked sad and so utterly lost that Merlin had to grip the door as to not run over to him and touch him or hug him or even _spell_ the sadness from him.

"Those crops will not flourish for long. Not in this heat. If the heat does not abate, there is no hope," Arthur said in a tone that brokered no argument but so much ambiguity in meaning that Merlin had no idea what Arthur was trying to say to him. They often had silent conversations but lately so many of their conversations were with words that held more meaning between the two of them than anyone else.

And Merlin was often lost in the translation.

"It is neither here nor there," Arthur said with a shake of his head. "Bring my bath, will you? I've got to meet with the council soon."

Merlin left, knowing that whatever little magic had happened, it wasn't enough. He was going to have to try again and he was going to have to do it soon.

<3<3<3

Arthur held no want for company after Merlin brought his bath and dismissed him until after the council meeting that would likely run into the night. Merlin nodded and took his leave silently. It was both a blessing and a curse to be around Arthur when he was having a wash. All that golden skin, glimmering under droplets of teasing water, was a bit much for Merlin's fragile sanity. But more often than not, it was the only time Merlin saw Arthur relax. His shoulders would ease into the water and unwind as the air blew out of the prince in a sigh. Merlin wouldn't be able to look away from his face in those moments and it was nice to enjoy the silence between them.

However, Merlin was thankful for the time to deal with other arrangements.

Merlin scribbled a note and gave it to a passing squire for Sir Balen before ducking back into his quarters and reading the spell over and over again, making sure to read the fine print in the margins to look for anything that might be hindering the full effects of the spell. He would follow the directions implicitly this time. Although Balen didn't mean anything to Merlin, they would meet in the forest and Merlin would cast a stronger muffling spell on Balen than he did on Gallahad so that he could speak the spell properly. This would work. If the crops were doing well then all Merlin had to do was bring around Fall.

All Merlin had to do was urge the earth to time travel.

"You can do this," Merlin said to himself as he grabbed a cloak Arthur had given him for Christmas the past year, claiming that the cloak displeased him, when Merlin knew for a fact that it was Arthur's favorite. He had accepted the gift without comment. If he couldn't 'give his seed' to the earth with someone he loved, he could at least have something of Arthur's with him when he did it.

"For Arthur," Merlin said as he stepped out into the too warm night, headed for the cover of the forest.

He just hoped Balen wouldn't notice their audience of woodland creatures because Merlin was sure, that even after all this was over, furry animals wouldn't stop following him.

<3<3<3

Arthur was already asleep when Merlin got back to the castle, but he hadn't been there long because his clothes were still warm when Merlin picked them off the floor. Not that he clung to them, smelling the soft smell of sandalwood and apricots from Arthur's soap and the heated smell of Arthur underneath it all. Not that he held them as if they were Arthur.

Right.

Merlin only lingered a few moments, watching the lines of Arthur's face as he cycled through his dreams, before he left. In the morning, Arthur would ride out to the fields and Merlin would watch the sky for the first signs of autumn.

<3<3<3

The morning dawned bright but hot and Merlin cursed, his anger flowing out of his fingers and completely trashing his room until all that was left of his furniture were shattered wooden boards and scattered hay.

Gaius didn't say a word when Merlin stormed out to attend to Arthur.

Arthur, who was equally tense and unusually silent. He didn't make a sound when Merlin accidentally laced up his tunic wrong, simply restrung the worn leather and waved Merlin off when he stuttered out an apology that sounded dead to his own ears.

Merlin had never felt so far away from Arthur. He wanted to reach out and grasp him, to say something-- _anything_ , but Arthur was already gone, his boots making solid sounds as he made his way down the hallway and out into the sun.

Merlin set off to find another variation of the harvest spell.

<3<3<3

Maybe it had to be someone new. It was the only variation he could think of to make the spell work. It was the last chance he had.

"Merlin?"

Merlin looked up from his bread and cheese. "Sorry," he said. "I was far away."

"Obviously," Gwen said as she sipped from her goblet. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't sleep well when Arthur-" Merlin cut himself off and stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth. It felt odd to talk about Arthur with Gwen like this. Merlin was tired of secrets.

"You two will save the crops. You'll figure something out."

Merlin swallowed the lump of bread, his throat dry. Gwen looked so hopeful and trusting, like they could do anything if it meant saving the kingdom. But Merlin wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure of anything.

"Don't worry, Merlin," Gwen said softly, her hand finding his over the table. "Prince Arthur will think of something. You two always do."

He _had_ thought. He had worked through every situation in his head, and the spell was working but it wasn't strong enough. It wasn't enough to move the seasons but he had to try. Whoring himself out wasn't ideal. In fact, he was feeling a bit sickly because of it, flung open and wanting but so very desperate. But the book said he might, that the act of self sacrifice and magic channeling to the earth was tiring—it was using him in a way that brought him to the edge of vulnerability and back. He felt like a whore for magic and a whore for Arthur; neither felt satisfying.

Merlin closed his eyes and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cheese. He opened his mouth and painted a smile on his face, trying to look reassuring to Gwen's careful eye. It must have worked because she smiled back and released his hand.

"So," he said with false cheer. "Where is the new knight staying?"

"Sir Percival?"

"Oh, is that is name?"

<3<3<3

Merlin dressed Arthur for the council meeting. It was still an hour or so before the council would meet but Arthur was anxious, poring over countless grain reports and scrutinizing numbers until his eyes went fuzzy and Merlin had to bring up a warm water basin to soak Arthur's face in.

"The summer won't leave," Arthur said, his head laying on the rim of the basin. Merlin stilled from where he was polishing a dagger. He looked carefully at Arthur's face, lined with hopelessness and frustration, as the water dripped off of it. "Why, _why_ won't the summer leave?"

"Maybe we're being punished."

Merlin heard himself speak without thought. He braced himself for some sort of verbal chastising but none came. He watched as Arthur blinked open his eyes, troubled blue that swirled with regret and anguish, before he closed them again and turned his head back into the water.

"Maybe we are," Arthur said as he reached for a hand cloth. "Maybe we are being punished."

Merlin wanted to cry.

"Arthur-"

"Enough," Arthur said as he stripped off his tunic and grabbed an embroidered one, slipping it over his head. "We have to face the facts. The numbers do not lie."

Merlin stepped closer, batting Arthur's hands away to do up the laces. "What do the numbers say?"

"They say over a two-thousand will starve this winter."

Merlin gasped, his hands falling from Arthur's chest. Arthur's face turned to stone, resignation and burden etching into his features until they solidified into the features of a seasoned Prince—of a warrior.

"Two-thousand Camelot subjects will starve at our hands," Arthur said. "The numbers don't lie and therefore, we cannot lie to ourselves."

Merlin fumbled as Arthur slide into his boots. He felt as if Arthur was sliding farther away, his figure blurry in front of him and thin, cast as shadow.

"There must be something-"

Arthur looked up sharply. "There is _nothing_ for you do to," Arthur said with a voice that spoke volumes. "We must accept defeat."

Arthur rose and strode to the door. "There is nothing more, Merlin."

The door slammed against its frame and Merlin flinched.

<3<3<3

Merlin fucked the young Sir Percival until he passed out. He hammered him into the ground with thrusts that seemed compelled by magic, bruises scattering over the knights back and his pain-pleasure cries filling the silence of the forest as Merlin bit and clawed his way inside him. Merlin fucked him until he came not once but twice from Merlin's cock before he passed out and Merlin waited, power thudding through him as Merlin chanted the spell over and over again. When Percival, young and eager and _stupid_ , awoke he begged Merlin for more.

"Gods, yes, please," he whined as he body squirmed desperate and needy over Merlin's length. " _Please_ , give me more. I need it."

And so Merlin did as he was asked. He pounded into the young knight until he cried, ecstasy driving his body mad with pleasure and scorching pain. Merlin used Percival until there was hardly anything left for the earth to want and there was hardly anything left of Merlin to give.

Merlin fucked Sir Percival until the skies opened up and flooded the earth in Merlin's anguish.

<3<3<3

The rain didn't stop. It poured through the night, rivers flooding and many residents having to take shelter in the upper town. It poured through the morning, the rain cascading in sheets outside the castle windows and pooling on the ground as the earth rejected its sudden avalanche—its sudden reprieve from the brittle state of scorched and cracked oblivion.

Merlin ignored it.

He put Sir Percival to bed, leaving a pot of salve by his bed and a few whispered words to slip the memory of their night into a cleaner, more human version of events. Merlin shook as the charm worked its way inside of Percival's mind and he didn't stop quaking when he left, the door clicking shut behind him in the pale morning light that was fighting through the thick storm clouds.

If it was possible, the heat was even more oppressive. It was heavy on Merlin's lungs as he climbed the stairs. The sticky, damp heat crawled all over his body and snarled at his heart until he felt mad.

"This is madness," he said desperately when he finally reached Arthur's quarters.

When Merlin opened the door, he found the room in a state of chaos. It looked very similar to Merlin's own, only the wardrobe was gaping open with clothes spilling out and strewn across the room. The bed was a jar from the wall, as if someone shook it violently before wrenching away. The table was on its side, its legs looking battered, and there are were shards of what looked to be a mirror close to the window pane where Arthur was standing. Merlin closed the door behind him, keeping his eyes trained on Arthur's broad shoulders that seemed to tremble beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. The tension of his posture ran heavy down the length of his spine and into the firm definition of his thighs.

"I thought you were trying to help."

Merlin noticed the calm and eerie quality that jumped alone Arthur's words. He took only two steps into the room but he didn't say anything. Arthur's body didn't move an inch and the air charged.

"I thought-" Arthur started and then stopped. Merlin felt the bottom of his belly hollow out when Arthur's huffed out laughter was ragged and too thin to be anything but malicious. "I thought you were doing something to help but it turns out you were just getting your dick wet."

The perfect pitched tone, meticulously groomed to be cruel, curled around Merlin like a wet blanket.

"Arthur," Merlin choked out. But Arthur shook his head.

"Who are you? People are going to die! And what are you doing? Seducing every knight with a loose hole like a slag," Arthur said with startling bitterness. Not for the first time, Merlin felt like he was missing the final piece to the puzzle to make everything right again. It was just out of his reach, laughing at him as he grasped and grappled in thin-air as everything turned to dust, falling through the cracks in his fingers to spill all around him.

"I thought you were _doing something_ ," Arthur went on with a revolting twist of his words that sounded so much like disappointment that Merlin felt his knees weaken. "You were supposed to do something!"

"Arthur, you don't understand."

Merlin took another step forward, dodging the scattered plates and disregarded clothes.

"You're right. I don't understand how you could spend all your time _fucking knights_ when you have the power to do something—to save people's lives. Is this a game to you?"

Merlin closed his eyes against the harsh words laced with spiteful laughter. Sir Percival's back stretched out before his minds eye and the bruises, the bite marks, the magical surge of unforgiving power smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"I was trying. It's a ritual," Merlin stuttered out. He stepped forward until he was only a footfall from Arthur's convulsing shoulders.

"Why didn't you do it?"

 _It._ Oh, the litany of what Arthur could mean. It was too numerous for Merlin to count or decipher and he cursed the way they never spoke with words, not real ones. Not real words that could be cataloged and saved, analyzed and kept safe; no, they had always stayed in the in-between spaces.

Merlin reached out, his hand hovering over Arthur's shoulder as Arthur whispered, "Why don't you save them?"

 _Because I was too busy trying to save myself_ , Merlin wanted to say. _I was too busy trying to save you but I got lost._

"I can't save them, Arthur," Merlin said instead. The truth as plain as can be. "I _can't save anyone_."

"LIAR!" Arthur whirled around, grabbing Merlin by the neckerchief and throwing him into the wall before Merlin could take another breath; the wind stopping and stuttering out of his chest from the force of Arthur's palm. "You bloody fucking _liar_!"

Arthur roared in Merlin's face, but it was through his eyes that everything shifted into focus. In his eyes, Merlin read his cues and there, that was where he found the devastation that racked Arthur's shoulders and tore through his lungs, separating every word he had ever spoken into careful categories with careful names to be spoken in careful, _careful_ silences.

This wasn't how this was supposed to end. This wasn't what destiny felt like. This was what heartbreak felt like... but then again, maybe they were always meant to be the same thing.

"I'm trying, Arthur," Merlin said with a sorrow and tenacity he had never felt before, bring his hands up to frame Arthur's face, letting Arthur twist his hand into the already tight neckerchief. "I'm trying but I can't do it. I don't know how, not without you."

The tension didn't leave Arthur, if anything it mounted and Merlin whimpered when confusion and hurt twisted over Arthur's features. Merlin gulped in a breath and stared wide-eyed when Arthur didn't run away, didn't call the guards, didn't summon the pyres or sharpen the blade himself for the lies that had laced Merlin’s tongue for so long. Instead, he breathed in deeply. Merlin watched in rapture as Arthur took deep breaths in through his mouth and out through his nose, his face ever nearer to Merlin's until their foreheads were touching.

Merlin was cross-eyed from trying to take every bit of Arthur's face into his memory.

"It," Arthur said, as if the word has been wrenched from his chest. "Why didn't it work?"

Shame slithered up from the pit of Merlin's belly, flushing his cheeks and raising the temperature of the room. What was worse than having your lies flung open for the most honest man in the world to see? The secret of your heart too, flayed open and still beating for him to devour before casting the carcass away in disgust.

Legends, Merlin thought. Legends were nothing like fairytales.

"I didn't love them," he whispered out his air deprived throat. It felt scratchy and thinly worn but as the last confession was wrought from his lips, Merlin felt the burden of everything slump onto his lips as if he was his father's murderer, Morgana's executioner, Kilgharrah's slain kin, Nimueh's vanished body, Gwen's scorched dreams and Arthur... _gods_ , Arthur's dagger wedged deep inside the Once and Future King's chest.

It was funny, but destiny didn't look so daunting on the other end of revelation. Merlin had been expecting something less anti-climactic. He probably wouldn't even get his head chopped off or his body burnt at the stake. No, it would be worse. He would die here in Arthur's chambers, by Arthur's words first and then his hand lastly.

"I didn't love them," Merlin repeated. "I can't save anyone because I don't love them."

Merlin closed his eyes, searching for the heartbeat he always looked for when Arthur was away from him. He searched until he found it, beating heavy and heard against the vein in his own neck. Two deep breaths, still choked, smoothed his own frantic pulse in time to Arthur's.

"What if they love you?"

Merlin opened his eyes, utterly confused. "What?"

"Will it work," Arthur said with a swallow. "Will _it_ work if they love you, even if you don't love them?"

It seemed that words, even now in this plane of brutal truth and nakedness, these words would fail them even still.

Merlin pressed his hands to the strong bones in Arthur's face, pressing until Arthur opened his eyes. Merlin let himself stay there for a moment. He stared into Arthur's open and completely beautiful face and loved him more than anything in the world. For a moment, it didn't matter to Merlin if the whole world went up in flames or drowned in the most violent seas. Nothing mattered but the man in front of him; the man who wanted to save the world and would lead Merlin to the ends of the earth in the name of honor and loyalty and love.

"Arthur," Merlin said softly, and then he kissed him.

It was gentle, not teasing or devouring but healing. Merlin felt happiness so deeply, he couldn't even smile. Instead, he peppered Arthur's face with kisses, pressing and bestowing them as gifts that begged forgiveness and provided a litany of atonement.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," Merlin murmured as he made his way over the sharp angles of Arthur's face and traced his raised brow until Arthur pulled back, blue eyes wide and, for the first time in many months, shining with clarity.

"Merlin."

He only said it once but he meant it. Merlin smiled then, Arthur's mouth curving in response before he pressed messily and honestly against Merlin's own. It was then that Merlin found Arthur's hands not around his neck, but tangled in his hair to control the angle of his lips and the slide of their tongues against each other.

They barely pulled away as they backed themselves back to the bed, dodging splintered mirror shards and other debris. Merlin laughed when Arthur murmured a hasty 'sorry', pushing at the prince's shoulders until he flopped back onto the messy bed. "Spoiled," Merlin said when he pressed his mouth to Arthur's hand and then followed its descent onto the bed. There would be time to look later, Merlin was sure of it. He concentrated instead on pressing his face, his hands, _his skin_ to every stretch of Arthur's skin he could. Merlin wanted to commit it all to memory, so that if he ever died—if Merlin ever had to confront the messy cliff of his destiny, he would rise again from the memory of Arthur's skin, this very first time, against his own.

They wasted no time. They let clothes litter the floor with the mess Arthur had already made and they pressed messy kisses into damp skin and smiled wide, forgiving and welcoming as the spaces between them closed.

It was a deluge of its own.

This time, when oil slicked fingers were twisted and turned, searching and finding, it was Merlin's back that arched off the bed; it was Merlin's mouth that fell open when Arthur's finger found that spot inside of him that made the world fall apart; it was Merlin who keened in desperation; it was Merlin's hips that hitched and wanted; it was Merlin's mouth that begged and was granted sloppy kisses; it was Merlin who received heavily murmured endearments; and it was Merlin's legs that were wrapped tightly, breath hitching and hiccuping as Arthur slid deep inside of him.

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin," Arthur said against his skin, pressing into the damp skin of Merlin's neck that was strained with fullness. "Merlin, Merlin, _gods_ , yes."

Merlin's hips struggled, squirmed and arched until Arthur moved. Merlin tried to pry his eyes open long enough to memorize the sweat on Arthur's brow, the rippling play of his muscles in each thrust of his hips, the gentle motion of his lips as they warped around Merlin's name—but all Merlin could see was Arthur's eyes, soulful and _trusting_ and adoring.

This time, when Merlin felt his orgasm barreling toward him, he clawed at Arthur's back as the prince's rhythm faulted at Merlin's choked gasps and tightened channel.

"Arthur, Arthur, please," Merlin asked, eyes glowing gold with pleasure and asking for consent. He wouldn't do this, even to save the world, unless Arthur sanctioned _all of him_. "Please, youyouyou."

With a final arched thrust, Arthur's voice sloshed up and washed over them, "Yes, gods yes, Merlin!"

This time, when Merlin came, Arthur came with him and the air swirled with magic that hummed through the air like it was sewing it together and creating something wholly new and glorious. They both cried out, clutching each other and riding out their orgasms in messy heat as magic flowed, not from Merlin's mouth, but from his heart:

  
_Forhtian na mara se hat sunne  
Weaxan wintersufel weaxan_   


  


<3<3<3

Merlin had never felt so bone tired. His head was pillowed on Arthur's chest, which was just as firm and delicious as it looked. They were a mess of long limbs, pointy elbows and gangly knees but Merlin wouldn't have asked for anything more than the soft splay of Arthur's hands over his body and his even breath skating across his skin as their hearts synched in a steady throb.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Merlin, stop the rain."

Merlin smiled against Arthur's chest. "What makes you think I started it?" He said sleepily, even as his eyes went golden and the deluge ceased to light smatterings on stone.

"Because," Arthur said, voice intimate and enveloping, "everything started with you."

<3<3<3

The next day, the temperature dropped and the earth seemed to relax, allowing the rain in. And as the castle shuttered, the cold seeping quickly in the stone walls, the townspeople of Camelot stepped out into the streets to watch the crops stay tall. Children came alive in the streets, their faces lit up with happy thoughts of Samhain's feasts because their mothers' and fathers' were embracing each other—their faces no longer able to remind Merlin of Hunith's that one dreadful winter. All around Camelot tension eased away from worry-worn shoulders and thankful praise filtered through the air. Samhain would not only be a day of feasts but a celebration of life and gratitude.

In the walled fortress of the Crown Prince's room, Merlin started a fire with a flint and a few pieces of wood before be climbed back into bed and Arthur's waiting arms. He dreamt of gloved hands over chilly skin, thickly woven wool cloaks and fur-lined blankets. He dreamt of brisk and biting cold that drove lovers back into bedchambers and deep inside covers. He dreamt of lazy kisses against wind-bitten cheeks and cold feet pressing against warm, _princely_ calves with royal tantrums to follow. He dreamt of leaves falling from trees as tall as castle towers and woodland creatures, annoying as ever, scurrying over the first snow and snowball fights when hunting was the game of the day.

Merlin dreamt and the world emulated his visions twice as vibrantly, cradled in the palm of his hand and all hinged on Arthur, his Once and Future King.

<3<3<3 The End <3<3<3


End file.
